


Gutter Masquerade

by rosemusiclive



Series: Magic for the Damned [1]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drugging, F/M, M/M, Needles, Sort of like a rave but with fancy masks, Urban Magic Yogs, death mention, umy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemusiclive/pseuds/rosemusiclive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ball of the summer is underway, and the Garbage Court are on the hunt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Game Is On

**Author's Note:**

> This fic uses my headcannon of fae affinities, essentially each fae has a small power even if they don't practice magic. Trott can pick up on things quickly, Smith has a certain charm, and Ross is just oddly likeable and trustworthy.

Time seemed to move slowly over the summer. Sweltering days where the air seemed dry and the grass slowly turned a sickly yellow, constantly transitioning to humid nights where the moon hung low and mistakes were made. Lost boys pressed too close to drunk girls, passing sweat and whispered lies to one another in the hot night, falling asleep on each other and wishing to not wake up the next day.

Summer was when the balls happened. 

It was rare, a ball, once in a blue moon really, and no one called them that. No one called them anything, no one knew about them when until they were there. The balls were sketchy at best. Often held in unmarked buildings too worse for wear or a shady wood on the outskirts of town. There was no direction or postcode for the balls, it was more of a right-place-right-time sort of thing.

But _God_ , when you were _there._

The balls were intoxicating. An exotic drug that hit you once and was gone by morning, leaving you waking up in the dirt and craving for more. Legends, sullen tales passed around like nicotine, stories of people who had stumbled across the party of a lifetime and couldn’t quite remember the details, only the feeling of something bigger.

That was the trick of the balls you see. It wasn’t the blinding lights illuminating the crowds or the thumping music coming from unseen speakers or the endless alcohol that seemed to be free. It was the heightened emotions. The unnatural surges of confidence and worth. The exhilarating moments when you felt your mind expand to everyone else in the room, when you felt yourself move as one, when you were part of _something._

Because thats what everyone craves, right?

And then they were gone. Packed up and left by the time you found your shoes. No one had been to more than one ball, one alone was lucky, but more than that was unheard of. Impossible to locate in the first place, it was hopeless to follow one. There was no pattern, no links. 

Except for the vague mention of three men that inspected the crowds with vibrant eyes, grabbing stragglers by the arm and taking them to places they would never return from. No one questioned them, the ball was worth the chance of being chosen by these three and their dazzling smiles. But that was it. No similarities. No planning. No rules.

Apart from the masks.

For a ball is not a ball without the masquerade.

—————

Leaning over the railing of a walkway overlooking the dance floor, Trott smiled. He clutched the railing with both hands, and leant out further. Sighing in content he felt the cautious eyes of Ross on his back, watching him through his grey and blue leather wolf mask. Silver highlights bordering the ears shining under the lights.

"Turn it up, Smith."

Instantly it felt like the air pressure and the humidity had increased. The crowd had clearly felt it too. Shouts rose up like secondhand smoke from below them as the vibrant thoughts of the people were amplified. Trott grinned and closed his eyes, taking in the full effect of the kelpie’s charm. For a second, he almost let it overwhelm him and sweep him into the mass of emotions below him, but he didn’t. Instead he pushed it out of him, like he’d learned to do long ago.

"Good." He sighed, leaning back again and opening his eyes. He pushed his white eagle mask back up to sit on his face properly and scanned the pulsing mass of bodies beneath him. The gold beak of the mask obstructed his vision a bit but he didn’t mind. This mask was an old favourite of his.

"See anyone you fancy, boys? I’m thinking more towards a lady friend tonight."

Smith stepped forward and joined him by his right side, adjusting his lion mask. Carved from an ebony wood, the kelpie’s mask oozed power. The gold trim on the edges of the mane and muzzle of the mask shone in the passing beams of the lights, contrasting to the sharp blue of Smith’s eyes. 

"What about that one?" He suggested, gesturing to a lone girl dancing on the edge of the crowd, eyes closed and arms stretched out high. Trott looked her over once, and then shook his head.

"Underage."

Ross frowned.

"She shouldn’t be here."

"Don’t worry mate, I’ll send someone to get her home safe in a minute." Trott replied, before turning to face the worried man.

"What about you, Ross?" The selkie cocked his head to the side and smirked. Ross looked unsure.

"You never choose." Smith said, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Ross could feel the calming touch of Smith’s hand and the encouragement in Trott’s eyes. With his blue glass tail flicking anxiously behind him, the gargoyle stepped forward to examine the crowd.

After waiting a moment, Ross stood back and pointed.

"Her."

The girl was pretty, Trott had to hand it to him. Sitting at the bar in the left corner of the room, she watched the crowd with the same sort of removed smirk that they did. Purple waved hair shone in the damp warehouse light, shaved off on her right side. Several piercings lined her right ear, one through her eyebrow, earrings in the shape of a moon and several stars. Her swirling purple and silver mask covered most of her face. 

She turned and the watching fae caught sight of her tattoos, circling her arm from her left hand to the left side of her face, stretching across her chest and stomach. They looked like tendrils, looping off into small flowers and leaves across her body. It looked like the wind had caught her off guard and left it’s shadow on the left side of her body.

"She’s fae for sure." Trott said casually. "Can’t tell what kind though. 24. Single. Lives in the city but is staying with a friend of hers until she gets herself together enough to get her own place. Likes video games and hates the taste of undercooked fish."

"Nice choice mate." Smith grinned, clapping Ross on the back. He leaned forward, eyes fiery in the passing lights.

"The game is on lads."


	2. Novocaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lion is on the prowl, and Kim is going to give him what he wants. That's what he thinks anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter: Kim's affinity is chemical resistance and you should probably look up novocaine. Also bonus points if you know what song I'm stealing the title from.

The pulsating mass of bodies easily parted for Smith to get through. He smirked at anyone that looked at him and ramped up the charm if their gazes lingered too long. 

Dirty hands grabbed at him in an afterthought. Double takes from big eyes filled with stained thoughts, blinking with the realisation that he was one of those three. The shadow men who lured people into the night for fun. Collecting screams like old coins, as if they were nothing but invaluable keepsakes. Worth something when they were shiny and new, but now just rusted relics of forgotten victims.

In any sense, the sane ones avoided them. Scratch that, the sane ones avoided the balls all together. 

But it was an unspoken rule that if you saw one, you did not look them in the eyes. Keep your head down. Blend into the crowd. Make yourself scarce. Let them pick their victim and don’t make a sound. Because as soon as you felt The Eagle’s touch on your shoulder, or The Wolf’s kiss on your neck, or The Lion’s hand running up your thigh, you knew you weren’t going home that night.

 Heads never turned, but Smith could feel their eyes following him. Fluidly, he headed towards the bar, eyes trained on the purple haired woman.

The Lion was on the prowl.

—————

Nano smiled as she felt the kelpie’s eyes on her back. She avoided looking at him as he sat down, swirling the drink in her hand absentmindedly instead.

"How are you liking the party?"

Raising her head, she looked the kelpie directly in his cerulean eyes. Her eyes wandered over his golden lion mask and she raised her eyebrow at his bared teeth.

"It’s hot." She said, looking him directly in the eyes and grinning. He chuckled.

"We’re pretty good at hot."

Nano didn’t reply. Instead turning her eyes back to the entranced horde in front of her. She could smell the sweet, acidic stench of hundreds of people moving as a single mind from here. Wrinkling her nose, she downed her drink in one, and sighed as no kick was felt.

"Impressive." the kelpie murmured from next to her, mentioning to her empty glass. She looked at him and frowned, she could tell his game. Predator and prey, their chase was about to begin.

"Who are you again?" 

For a second, she saw the brief surprise in his eyes at the thought of someone who hadn’t heard of The Lion. But then his unruffled facade returned, and he was smiling and offering a hand to shake.

"The names Adrian." he grinned. Nano shook his hand and smiled politely. Adrian? Really? Talk about thinking on your feet.

She put her glass down and stood. Watching his eyes, Nano stretched her hands above her head. If she wasn’t trying to be subtle she would have laughed, it was amazing what a toned stomach and a crop top could do to men.

"Well Adrian." She smiled, looking up at him and fluttering her eyelashes. "You wanna dance?"

He nodded and took her hand, pulling her towards the dance floor, but she paused him. 

Slowly, Nano pulled her dark lipstick out of the front pocket of her purse. Sky blue eyes watched her as she coated her lips with the deep red lipstick, an amused smile taking his features as he realised she was teasing him. She puckered her lips for the final touches and put the lipstick in the back pocket of her jeans.

Forcefully now, he grabbed her hand, pulling her close. His other hand brushed a stray hair out of her face as he smirked.

"Let’s dance."

The atmosphere of the dance floor was intense. An overwhelming sense of youth hung in the air like smog, constantly being inhaled and exhaled until everyone's lungs overflowed with the innocence and greed of adolescence. 

Nano could feel the kelpie’s charm prodding at her mind, begging her to get lost in mass of voices around her. Tugging at the charm Lomadia had given her that was hanging around her neck, she felt it recede, and sighed.

Unfortunately, the charm could not ward off the impatient kelpie that was currently grinding against her. There was no chastity in the way his hands had skipped her waist, clutched firmly on her behind. Shamelessly they moved against each other in time to the pounding music and the pulsing heartbeats of everyone around them.

Looking up into his eyes, Nano saw exactly what he wanted, and smiled. It was so simple. The Lion wanted sex. Sex was easy. A few little moans and well placed strokes every now and then and it was almost enough to make a man fall in love with you.

"Well." He shouted over the music, leaning into her. "Are you going to tell me your name or will I have to give you one?"

"That depends." She smiled, snaking her hands up his chest. "What do you want from me?"

Grinning, he leant forward and pressed his lips to her jaw. Slowly he moved down her neck, leaving small kisses in his wake. He stopped at her collarbone to leave a purple bruise with his mouth, canines nipping at her skin.

"Novocaine." Nano gasped, bringing her hands up to grasp at his auburn mane. "For you, my name is Novocaine."

"Nova then." He mumbled into her neck. She shrugged and pulled his head up. Licking her lips, she tasted the cherry lipstick and the hint of something else. Without a second thought, he slammed his mouth onto hers. They moved together in a different kind of dance. Hands roamed and open mouthes moaned into each other.

It didn’t take long for the kelpie to pull away and ask if she wanted to go outside. Of course, she said yes. He lead her by the hand through the crowd, her applying another coat of lipstick as he did. Nano smiled as she saw his movements were slightly slurred. They exited through a side door into a deserted alleyway, the cold night air hitting them both.

Instantly Nano was pushed up against the cool brick wall of the warehouse, the kelpie’s hands wandering her body. She kissed him hard and he licked her bottom lip, she complied and opened her mouth to his tongue. 

Again she felt him release another wave of charm, and for a moment she considered giving in and actually enjoying what she was doing, but she didn’t. She couldn’t, even if she was quite happy to let this hot piece of fae kiss her into sunrise, she wouldn’t be so pleased when her body was found lifeless in a ditch three weeks later. Besides, Lomadia would kill her if she didn’t get what she came for.

Speaking of what she came for, she pulled back from the kiss and looked the kelpie over. He was swaying a little, his movements were slowed and he was blinking like he had just woken up. Frowning, she applied another coat of lipstick. Fae must have a higher chemical resistance than humans. They locked lips again, and soon Nano could feel his hands dropping from her body. 

"It’s a weird name, Novocaine." The kelpie murmured, leaning his body against her and closing his eyes.

"Yeah." Nano said, putting her hands under his arms. "You should google it when you wake up tomorrow."

He nodded and fell into her grip, completely unconscious. Slowly, she rested him on his side on the concrete floor, making sure his airways weren’t blocked so he couldn’t choke in his sleeping state. She spent a few moments finding where she’d dropped her bag in the darkness before locating it and pulling out one of her taglocks, a bone needle and a wet wipe. 

After wiping his arm down with the wet wipe to remove any dirt, she slowly pressed the bone needle into the skin of the underside of his forearm. Expertly, Nano made a small incision with the needle, catching the now flowing green blood in the taglock. After she had collected enough, she bandaged the cut, and pulled out her handcuffs.

"I only really use these for emergencies." She told the unconscious kelpie, waving the cuffs in front of his closed eyes. "But you manipulate peoples into having sex with you and then kill them. I’d say you can spend at least one night handcuffed to a lead pipe in an alley that stinks of piss and is probably on Crimewatch’s shit list."

Smiling at the now handcuffed fae, she threw the key to the cuffs on the ground, making sure it was just out of the kelpie’s reach. Putting the taglock back in her bag, she pulled her lipstick out of her back pocket and smiled. 

She’d made it herself. Melt down a generic lipstick, add a little flavour and a nice dosage of white powdered Novocaine, reshape it you’ve got yourself a lipstick that’ll put people to sleep in minutes. The only problem was it needed constant lip to lip action. Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a problem when the victim looked like this kelpie did. Nano put the lipstick back in the front pocket of her bag and headed back inside.

The Lion had been seduced. Now just The Eagle and The Wolf were left.


	3. Atropine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eagle takes up the chase, Trott is yearning for a challenge and Kim gives him one.

"Something’s wrong with Smith." Ross said, prodding Trott on the shoulder. Sighing, the selkie turned away from his conversation with Sips to raise an eyebrow at him. 

"What?" Trott questioned, seeing genuine concern behind the mans grey wolf mask. Ross’ tail swayed anxiously behind him and he grasped at Trott’s forearm. 

"The bond, it's gone quiet."

Trott’s mind raced. The blood bond between the gargoyle and the kelpie was incredibly useful, even if it wasn’t particularly accurate. They constantly got noise from each other, a fluent ebb and flow of thoughts and emotions. It’s not like they could read each others minds, but if Ross took a particularly hard hit or if Smith was having fun with someone in his car, the other knew about it. 

So for the bond to have gone quiet.

"What do you mean quiet?" Trott asked, eyes widening in panic. "Can you hear anything?"

"It’s not completely dead." Ross grabbed Trott’s hand to calm him. "Just muffled, but he’s definitely not conscious."

"God damn it. Where did you last see him?"

"I don’t know." Ross shrugged. "He just went off to get that woman."

Trott frowned, he remembered Smith leading the woman out into the side alley, but that was it.

"You stay here." He told Ross, squeezing his hand tightly. "I’m gonna go find him."

Ross nodded and planted a small kiss on his cheek.

"Stay safe."

—————

Trott spotted the purpled haired woman easily. She stood in the centre of the dancefloor, completely still and staring directly at Trott. His eyes narrowed as she turned and strode away into the crowd, Smith’s charm didn’t seem to be effecting her at all. 

People moved aside as Trott stalked through the pulsing mass of bodies, barely keeping the purple woman in his sights. He followed her into the women’s bathroom, where she was putting on her makeup. The other women in there left as soon as they saw who it was. The Eagle.

Neither of them moved. Their eyes met in the mirror of the dank bathroom and the woman smiled, applying a perfume to her neck that Trott smelt instantly. She turned, and they watched each other. Trott tried to pick up on anything about her he could, but there wasn’t anything particularly odd.

"Where is Smith?" Trott asked, breaking the silence like a hammer through glass.

"He’s not dead, don’t worry." The woman smiled, leaning back on the sink. "He’ll be fine by morning."

"Where is he?" Trott demanded, fist clenching slightly. Rolling her eyes, the woman sighed.

"Don’t worry, I’m sure your gargoyle friend will be able to find him when he wakes up tomorrow."

Frowning, Trott took a step towards the woman. She copied his movements, and the circled each other slowly, practicing a slow dance. He raised his chin and looked down on her through his mask, she gave him a small smirk. It was careful, calculated. Trott appreciated that.

"Who are you?"

She chuckled, and shook her head. The feathers on her purple and silver mask shuddered. Coming closer to Trott she raised one hand to cup his face, the sweet perfume on her wrist invading his senses, making his eyes water slightly. 

"My name is whatever you want from me." She rested her other hand on his shoulder and leaned into him. "So, selkie, what do you want?"

Trott stood firm as rock under her noxious touch, and looked her directly in the eyes, trying desperately to figure her out. Usually people were so easy, but her… He raised his hand to take her mask off, hoping to get some more details from her face. But before he could she laughed and stepped backwards, leaning back against the sink once more.

"Interesting." She muttered, watching him with narrowed eyes, as if she was trying to figure him out. "That’s a new one. Usually it’s something easy like redemption, or knowledge, or sex."

With that last one, she flashed her teeth a little, and suddenly he knew what had happened to Smith. Before he could question it however, she was approaching his still form once again. He did not move, not wanting to give her any sense of intimidation or fear from him. They stood opposite each other for a second. Quirking an eyebrow, she slowly started circling his body, eyeing him up like he was a lamb going to slaughter and she was figuring out which cut would be best for her dinner.

"But you, you’re different." Stopping behind him she put both hands on his shoulders and leaned into his back. She put her lips to his ear.

"You want a challenge."

Trott shuddered under her breath on his neck and closed his eyes. It was true. The old murder routine had become dull, even once Smith and Ross had joined him. After a while the chase had stopped exciting him. He no longer played with his food, preferring to wait for Smith to run it into a corner and then swoop into finish the job. Each time, he hoped that the game would change, that someone would be smart. He wanted the food to play too. 

The woman giggled and retracted herself from him, walking round to his front again.

"So that is your challenge, selkie." She grinned, flashing her teeth. "Guess my name."

Trott opened his mouth to speak but she put her finger up, stopping him.

"Of course every game has rules, even this one. Otherwise it's no fun." She smiled as he shut his mouth and listened. He got the feeling that he didn't want to fuck with this woman. "Rule number one: you get one guess. Guess right and I leave without touching you. Guess wrong and I’m taking what I came for."

Trott resisted the urge to ask what it was that she came for and let her continue.

"Rule two: you may ask one question only. If you’re as smart as I’ve heard, which I dearly hope you are, you should only need one question."

"Rule number three: you may look and ask your question, but you cannot touch. Any movement and your little court is dead." She smiled as Trott grimaced at the threat. "But don’t worry, you can keep shuffling along this mortal coil, all on your own."

"So go ahead." She finished, energy dancing in her eyes. "Take a good look, ask your question, and take a guess."

Trott let out a breath, relaxed himself, cleared his mind, and looked at her.

Eyes darting but body not moving an inch, he scanned every piece of her he could. She stood still as he did, the same small smirk invading her features as the one she had when he walked in. He looked for anything distinct, anything that seemed out of place. Her black crop top reading something in Japanese. Her grey denim jeans, slightly ripped around the knees. Her several bracelets and old looking purple converse. Nothing.

His heartbeat and breathing fractured, he put it down to adrenaline and pushed it out of his mind. Forgetting her clothes he moved on to her body. She was short and had tanned skin. The mask obscured most of her face but he could tell from her eyes and the size of her hands that she was from somewhere in Asia, probably somewhere near the Philippines due to her height and the size of her feet. That was different, her skin was too tanned for that, and her palms seemed withered, like she’d been handling harmful things. 

Taking a chance on almost nothing, he proposed his question.

"Where are you from?" He asked, she smiled sweetly and rocked back on her feet.

"England born originally, but I’ve travelled around quite a bit. Been backpacking around Germany in the 1930’s, went to Japan for a bit in 1995, big trip to Iraq in 2013, that one left a nasty mess."

That was it, that was his clue. The grin was back again as she leaned forward, her perfume once again hitting him. Gritting his teeth Trott racked his brain for the answer. Those places and dates were so specific, they had to mean something. But what linked them? What was it that made those dates special? Trott’s head suddenly spun and he frowned, taking his mind off of her and examining his own body.

His breathing was laboured, his eyes were watering, his vision was blurred. But still he could smell her sickly sweet perfume.

Trott’s eyes widened in shock as he tried to move his arm, and couldn’t.

"Sarin." He stuttered out. She grinned gleefully.

The chemical bombing leaving 1,729 dead in Iraq in 2013. The gas attack on a Tokyo train station in Japan in 1995. The toxin created in Germany in 1938. The toxin that would paralyse and kill a person in under 10 minutes. 

"Your name is Sarin."

Despite his headache and severe pain in his chest, Trott smiled.

"I won the game." He said. "You will not harm a member of my court."

The woman simply giggled and reached into her bag, pulling out what looked like a needle and a small jar.

"Sorry, but no."

The selkie frowned. Everything she said had pointed to Sarin, it was clearly infecting him now for gods sake.

"Sarin is a good guess, you’re very close." She shook her head and stepped forward, placing the needle against his left arm. Paralysed by the drug, he was unable to resist her. 

"You almost got it, but you missed one very important detail."

Making a small cut, she collected the flowing golden blood in her jar.

"I told you at the start, selkie. My name is whatever you want from me.’’

His eyes widened as she looked directly at him.

"You’ve wanted to die for so long, Chris. Every game you’ve played, deep down you wanted something to go wrong. For the prey to turn on you and finish the eternal loop of cat and mouse. How long have you been on this plain, selkie? How many times have you played that game?"

She paused, capping the jar and bandaging up his cut. Trott looked at the blood on his arm and thought about how many times he had spilled anothers. How may times he’d wished it was his own. His golden blood spilling over the dirty pavement. How he would have smiled at the guilty liquid, and embraced his death with open arms.

"Sarin takes ten minutes to kill you." The woman continued. "You’ve been inhaling it for about eight. Here you are, on the edge of death, how does it feel? Do you really want to die?"

Trott’s mind instantly jumped to his court. He thought of Smith. Of all the times Trott had called him back from going overboard, how he had always threatened to tear something down if it ever got in their way, how he had destroyed Trott’s old life and bought him into a new, exciting one. Trott thought of never again running his hands through Smith’s auburn curls or never feeling the kelpies hot breath on his neck. Trott frowned.

Trott thought of Ross. He thought of the gargoyles cool, safe touch, thought of the sense of security that came with the feeling of Ross’ eyes on his back. Trott thought of never feeling Ross’ soft kiss on his head as he slept, or never waking up to the sight of the sun passing through the gargoyles beautiful glass tail and painting fractured blue shapes on their bedroom wall. Trott gritted his teeth.

He thought of Sips. The Canadian man’s stupid accent and his stupid cap and his stupid jokes and the stupid way he could place a hand on Trott’s shoulder and give him an absurd rush of _something._

He thought of Sips seeing Trott’s dead body. Thought of Sips crying. 

Tears threatened to spill over Trott’s eyelids.

"I’ll ask you again, selkie. Do you really want to die?"

Trott raised his head to meet her eyes, she nodded, her smile knowingly pitiful.

"Thought so."

Once again, she rummaged through her bag. This time she pulled out two syringes, one blue and one green.

"This is curare." She said, plunging the green syringe into his right forearm. If it hurt, he felt nothing. "It will paralyse you, but should diminish after about two hours, given the dosage I’m giving you. Just enough for me to escape into the night with your blood."

"And this." She said, raising the blue syringe to show him. "This is the antidote to Sarine, it’s called Atropine. Though, you probably know that already." She raised his shirt and injected this into his abdomen.

"You want to live, Chris. I know you do. I’m giving you what you want, I’m saving your life."

She put both syringes back into her bag, and smiled at him. Her words echoed in his mind. _My name is whatever you want from me._

"My name is Atropine."

And with that, she left. Christ let out a breath and hung his head. He had thought about dying for so long, he had forgotten what he had to live for.

The Eagle had been outwitted, only The Wolf remained.


	4. Morphine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only the wolf remains, and he doesn't want anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, had to really get into it before I could write it. Though this is sort of the end, there will be an epilogue.

The Wolf is a majestic creature. Strong and beautiful, it slinks in the shadows. Silent, fierce and inquisitive, many fear the wolf above all other creatures. The animal it fairly tough on it’s own, but they excel in a pack. 

Wolves work as one greater being. Lead by the alpha, they rely on communication like a buck relies on the bark to live through winter. The pack is considered to be an extended family of sorts, hunting together, living together and protecting each other against bigger threats.

Lone wolves do not have a pack, and often hide from them in fear. They may be born lone wolves, or may leave a pack due to incessant physical challenge. Usually male, they are either killed by a pack or die alone.

They do not mate. They do not have a family. They live and die alone.

—————

Moonlight washed over the gargoyle from where her perched on the roof. Painting his skin a soft white and his hair almost black, the beams cascaded into cobalt spears through his tail and horns, piercing the rooftop with their exaggerated blue light. His silver wolf mask glinted in the sheen of the moon.

He was stood on the edge of the roof, watching over the entrance of the warehouse from above. People trickled out like ants from their anthill, flowing with a strange sense of subconscious organisation. The night was almost over, and the people knew it. 

Footsteps sounded behind him. Sips had been looking around for them too.

‘Did you find them?’

‘They’re safe’ 

Ross spun, that was a female voice. His eyes widened as he realised it was not Sips, it was the purple woman. The purple woman who Smith had taken into the alley. The purple woman who Trott had gone after. She smiled at him.

‘Who are you?’ He growled, growing frantic. ‘Where are Trott and Smith?’

Staying silent, the woman approached him slowly, her black boots clunking against the steel roof. Ross froze as she stood next to him, gazing down at the people below.

‘Sad isn’t it?’ She murmured. ‘The lucky ones, taking the magic of fae and scrambling back to their human lives. They don’t know what they’re missing.’

Ross said nothing as she leant back slightly, the purple and black feathers of her mask swaying in the wind.

‘Your court are alive.’ She said, addressing him but now starring into the night sky. ‘I did not harm them, I am simply collecting something.’

‘And now you want it from me?’ Ross asked, watching the woman intently. She nodded. Silence engulfed them for a moment, only broken by a loud laugh from below. 

‘Who are you?’ Ross asked. Softer this time, as if he didn’t want to disturb the gentle quiet. The woman sighed, almost wistfully.

‘Who I am does not matter.’ She said, finally turning to him. ‘Want you want from me is the important part.’

Ross was slightly taken aback by this. What he wanted from her? He didn’t want anything from her. He didn’t even know her. Her grey eyes gazed into his, as if demanding an answer. 

‘I don’t want anything from you!’ He said, raising his hands defensively. ‘I just want to know my court is safe.’

Frowning as if he was lying to her, the woman’s eyes flicked over his face. Gritting her teeth, she looked away.

‘Nothing!’ She shouted at the night. Ross stepped back, surprised by her sudden outburst. ‘Nothing he says!’

Turning back to him, she pointed her finger menacingly.

‘You _lie,_ gargoyle. No one want’s _nothing._ ’

She lowered her hand and closed her eyes, calming herself until a smile replaced her gritted teeth. Opening her eyes again, she stepped towards him.

‘But you don’t seem to think you’re lying, so the question changes.’

Ross froze as she placed a hand on his chest.

‘Let me ask you again, what do you _need_ from me?’

Need? Ross was never about need. He had everything he could ever need. The court, their home, their adventures in the shadows together. What could he possibly need from her? The woman seemed to sense his confusion as she smiled sweetly at him.

‘Another blank? Wow you really have it made, don’t you gargoyle? Well, let me answer that for you then.’

Trailing her hand up his chest, she cupped his cheek. He clenched his teeth against her touch.

‘Look at yourself, gargoyle. Look at what you are. You were built to protect, to shield, to _serve_.’

Slowly, she removed his wolf mask from his face, cautiously handling the soft fabric. Ross kept absolutely still.

‘And here you are. Running around with a cynical selkie, a narcissistic kelpie and a confused human. Going unused.’

She dropped the mask at their feet, they both ignored the sound.

‘You push it down, the feeling of need. The sudden thoughts of inadequacy. The want to be more. The weird rush you get whenever you get to swoop in and be the hero. The hole you have inside of you where no one has ever said thanks.’

Ross bowed his head, thinking about her words.

‘You need someone to fill that hole. You need someone to serve and someone to protect. You need someone to need you.’  
She smiled and took his hand. Removing her own mask, she threw it down next to his. Ross took in the beauty of her face.

‘I will be that someone. I will take that pain away. Bind yourself to me, and I will let myself need you.’

Ross scrunched his eyes closed at the offer. It was so tempting, she was completely right. He had been created to protect that church, that was his calling. When Smith had burnt that church down he had felt a piece of him being removed. He wasn’t remorseful, far from it, but it would be nice to feel whole again.

‘I can’t leave my court.’ He said, shaking his head. Feeling a hand cup his face again, he opened his eyes.

‘Oh I would never ask that, you are bound to them as much as we are bound to this city. I’m simply proposing a contract. We bind through blood, and then whenever I need you, you come.’

Whenever she needed him. Ross thought about it.

Cool and empty, the night howled silence at them. Revelling in the chances and mistakes of youth, it swelled and expanded with the magic in the air.

He nodded. She smiled.

Reaching down to open her bag, the woman brought out a white needle, a small jar, a clay bottle, a rag, some bandages and two small white pills. She sat cross legged on the steel roof, pulling Ross down by the hand to join her.

‘This is Morphine.’ She said, giving Ross one of the white pills. ‘Take it when I take mine’

Ross nodded, clenching the pill in his left hand as she took is right one.

‘Wait.’ He said, the woman paused. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

She looked at him before making a cut across his right palm, he winced at the pain.

‘For you, my name is Ecstasy. I will give you a high.’

She put the glass jar up against the cut, collecting the almost clear blue blood.

‘For you, my name is Cyanide. I will poison you.’

Ross stayed silent as she made a cut on her left palm.

‘For you, my name is Ketamine. I will put you to sleep.’

Hand still bleeding, she opened the clay jar and poured a bit of the liquid inside onto the rag. The smell of petrol hit Ross as the liquid started to evaporate into the air. Hastily, the woman rubbed the rag over her cut, and then Ross’. He gritted his teeth and hissed, it felt like she was rubbing grit into his wound.

‘For you, my name is Deferoxamine. I will be your cure.’

Entwining their cut hands together, the woman looked Ross directly in his eyes. His mind buzzed with the magic filling him and his tail flicked wildly behind him.

‘For you, my name is Hydrofluoric Acid. I will corrode you.’

Keeping eye contact, the woman raised the pill to her lips. Ross copied. At the same time, they placed the pills in their mouths, and swallowed. Ross grimaced at the bitter taste.

‘For you, my name is Morphine. I will take your pain away.’

Grabbing Ross by the collar of his shirt with her free hand, the woman pulled their chests together. On their knees with hands entangled, they shared eye contact as the magic mixed with the morphine and filled them both. Ross grinned before placing his other hand on her waist, and leaned in to kiss her.

Lips met with gentle need, and they kissed with the bitter taste of pain relief on their tongues. The kiss was short, but when she pulled back Ross was left with his head fogged. A mixture of the magic of the bond, the white hot pain of his hand, and the taste of her on his lips.

Looking towards the breaking sunrise, the woman bit her lip. Ross squeezed her hand, ignoring the pain of doing so. 

‘I have to go.’ She said, resting her forehead against his. He sighed and let her hand go so she could bandage them both. Ross relented and enjoyed the fading pain for a bit. Once she was finished they stood together.

‘I never did get your name.’ Ross said as the woman put her things back in her satchel bag. She smiled, amused by his persistence. 

‘My name isn’t important.’ She said, straightening up.

‘It is to me.’

Shaking her head at him, the woman took a few paces back from the edge of the roof.

‘Maybe I’ll tell you, eventually.’ She smiled at him.

Ross sighed in frustration, and stuck his hands in his pockets.

‘Well, when will I see you again?’

‘You’ll know when I need you’ 

She was so cryptic, Ross frowned.

‘Until next time, gargoyle.’ 

She winked at him and gave him a small salute, before running full speed to the edge of the roof and eagle diving off of it. Eyes wide, Ross peered over the edge to watch the shadows of the alley below swallow the woman whole. 

Blinking at her sudden disappearance, he tried to focus in on the bond, sighing when he heard the noise from her that meant she was fine. He tested the bond between him and Smith and the bond between him and the city too, making sure neither of them had been erased. They were both fine, and he shook his head slightly at the louder noise from the kelpie, Smith was awake and very angry.

Sunlight hit the roof, bathing Ross in its warm glow as the innocence of day slowly erased the impurity of night. Raising his palm out in front of him, Ross gazed at the fresh cut and wondered if he’d made a mistake. As if she had heard his doubt, he felt a soft pulse of reassurance over the new bond and smiled. Picking up his their discarded masks he headed towards the exit of the roof. Lone wolves never survived alone.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two months since the ball, and none of them had seen or heard anything from the purple woman.

Weeks had passed since the ball, and Ross still hadn’t heard anything from the purple woman. The quietness of the bond was constantly worrying him, as if he had imagined that night on the roof. Every now and then though, he would get sparks of emotions that weren't coming from the kelpie, reassuring him of the blood connection between him and the mysterious purple woman.

Even if he had imagined that night, the other two surely hadn’t. Trott seemed to be oddly affectionate towards them after his encounter with the woman, not that this was a bad thing. Smith was furious, of course. It was quite a while before they had found him in that alley, cursing wildly with his wrist rubbed raw from trying to reach the key.

Hiding the bond from the court had been odd. When asked if he had seen the woman he had denied, but lying to them was hard and he had felt Trott’s narrowed eyes on his back as he quickly walked away. Eventually he couldn’t take more of Trott’s questions and Smith’s accusing glances and, with great effort, he told them.

Obviously, Smith was angry. He couldn’t understand why Ross needed someone else, why the court wasn’t good enough for him. He was hurt too, as much as he tried to cover it up with anger, it was clear. The bond between him and Ross was special, something only they had. Well, it used to be. It took a lot of cuddles and “I love you”s to get Smith back to normal again.

Trott was less mad, and more comforting. He understood that whatever contracts Ross made, he would always be pledged to the court, first and foremost. He helped Ross calm Smith down, talking sense into him at their most sensitive moments. Sips was nonchalant, trusting Ross completely with his choices.

Still, none of them had seen or heard from the purple woman since. The only remainder from her visit were the small cuts on each of them, and the occasional background buzz Ross got from the bond. That was it.

Until one night about two months after the ball, when out of the blue, she showed up. Ross was the only one home. Trott was at the pub with Sips and Smith was god knows where. He felt it instantly, the sudden clear pang from the bond that meant that she was close all of a sudden.

Immediately, Ross headed up to the roof, sure enough, she was there. The woman stood with her back to him, silhouette casting tall shapes in the light of the moon. Her purple hair danced in the soft wind, exposing the tattoos on the back of her neck.

‘That was quick.’ She murmured, Ross could almost hear the smirk in her voice. Turning, she strode towards him with a glint in her eye.

'Where have you been?' Ross questioned. She waved him off.

'Come on, it's only been a few weeks.'

'Two months!'

'Fine.' She said, rolling her eyes. 'I got a bit caught up in a different city.'

'Why didn't you ask for my help?'

'I handled it! Anyway I'm here now, aren't I?'

Ross sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

'What do you need me for?'

She looked him over and stepped closer.

‘One of the goblins in the West district nicked something of mine. Usually taking a goblin down would be easy, but unfortunately the beast got to it’s master before I could find it.’ 

Ross blinked and nodded, trying to keep up with the flow of information.

‘The Infernal Court, you may have heard of them, they control the goblins in the West district. Small court, only three of them I think, run by a cold hellhound named Ruse. Anyway I think one of them has my possession. Judging by their personal tastes, I’d say it’s the one called Zuriel.’

‘Zuriel?’ Ross asked. ‘Isn’t that an angel name?’

Smiling, the woman nodded.

‘Yes, and that is why I need you.’

With those last words, Ross smiled and grabbed the woman’s hand.

‘One thing before we go.’ Ross said, the woman tilted her head questioningly. 

‘What is your name?’

The woman grinned and pecked a small kiss on his lips.

‘Nanosounds.’

‘That’s your name?’

‘No, but thats about as close as you're gonna get.’

Flashing him a smirk, she tugged her hand out of his and ran to the edge of the roof, jumping over the alleyway and into the darkness. Grinning, with adrenaline pounding in his chest, he gave chase. The wind whipping through his hair, he bared his teeth to the night and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end guys! I will do more Hatsounds related stuff if you want it, with focus on all four of them or single couples depending. Also this will probably be the start of a series of Nano and Ross adventures.


End file.
